As always thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Sorry for the long wait :(

This plot is still in flux for me and I'm still deciding what I'm going to do with this story. If there is anything in particular you'd like to see in future chapters, shoot me a suggestion in the review box!

A soft knock raps on my door.

I look up wearily, hoping whoever it is will go away so I can go back to sleep. It's been the better part of two days since I left the arena. After flying us out on the Hovercraft, fixing us up in the hospital, and exchanging hellos and congratulations with Haymitch, Effie and Cinna, I practically boarded myself in my room in the District 12 penthouse. My only wish is to go back to the Seam. To see Prim and Mom. To hunt again with Gale. I've barely eaten, save for nibbling on the trays of sweets and delicacies Effie sometimes has delivered outside my room. I haven't seen Cato. Nor do I wish to.

Another knock sounds, this time more insistent. Reluctantly I drag my feet off the comfy bed and open the door.

"Come, come, Katniss. You have a visitor!" Effie's smile is much too bright for my somber mood.

"I'm not really in the mood to entertain."

"Don't be rude!" She takes my hand and leads me from the room. "That young man of yours is quite something. He likes my hair!" Pleased with herself, she pats her head.

My young man? My stomach turns. Peeta's dead…

I turn the corner before I put two and two together. My heart sinks. Cato is sitting at the dining room table with Haymitch. They both laugh wildly over something Haymitch says, downing sifters of whiskey like they're thick as thieves.

Haymitch looks up and catches my eye. "Oh, good. You've finally woken up. Join us." He pats the seat next to him.

"Drink?" Cato offers me a glass. I shake my head. Negative.

"It's good stuff, Katniss." Haymitch takes the drink from Cato, downing it in one gulp. "More for me then."

Complimenting Effie. Giving Haymitch expensive whiskey. I know exactly what's going on here.

"Buying your way into the graces of District 12, Cato?"

"Katniss, manners!" Effie scolds.

Cato smirks, but doesn't answer my question. "It's alright, Effie." The smile he gives her could melt butter. "Katniss is just upset with me. I wasn't exactly a gentleman at the end of the Games was I? Come on, let's talk."

"I don't want to talk to you."

Cato slides off his seat, eyeing me like a man about to go into battle. He pours himself another glass of whiskey, handing the rest of the bottle to Haymitch. "I'll leave this with you." Gliding past my seat, he takes my hand, practically ripping me off the chair.

"Ow, let go!" I turn my head, praying for salvation. Haymitch is much too invested in safeguarding his whiskey, and Effie in taking it from him, for either one to pay us any more mind.

Cato drags me down the corridor, dumping me unceremoniously on the bed before turning and locking the door.

"Was that really necessary?"

"Would you have come willingly?"

I snort. "No."

"Exactly." He stalks toward me like a lion, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, eyeing my torso. He stops half a foot away from me, but thankfully his eyes have left my stomach. "You need preparation."

"Preparation? For what?"

"The interview. You're useless on stage." I open my mouth to argue, shutting it a second later. He's right. I'm about as warm and fuzzy as barbed wire.

"Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Well, for one, you can learn to smile."

"I smile!"

"No, I mean an actual smile. Not that scary nervous half grimace thing you do," he says.

I muster my cheeriest fake smile, batting my eyelashes at him condescendingly.

"Good! Just like that. Now you just need to giggle at appropriate times. Follow my lead and don't question me. Just agree with everything and anything I say. Alright?"

Everything and anything? "What exactly are you planning to say, Cato?"

"Normal stuff…the struggle of the Games, I fell for you. Our love…blah, blah, blah." He sits next to me, flopping backwards on the bed in boredom. "Too easy. These idiots will believe anything."

"Our love?" I echo. "What about Peeta?"

"What about him?" I can practically hear the eye roll in his voice. "Dead, gone, meaningless."

"He is not meaningless! He was my boyfriend."

"Well he's not anymore." He sits up again, hand locking around my wrist, correctly anticipating my anger. It takes all of my self-restraint not to shove him off the bed. "Time to move on."

Guilt twists in my stomach, clawing up my throat, threatening to overcome me. I will not abandon Peeta again. "Look, it's not that easy, Cato! He was my friend…my partner. Not that I'd expect you to understand."

"Just stop this shit, Katniss." He flings my hand back into my lap, disgust plain in his words. "I understand what friendship is. I've lost people I've loved. You don't think Glimmer's death still kills me inside? Stop trying to make me into something I'm not! Stop playing the victim!"

"I'm not playing the victim! It's not true…it's not right to pretend like this."

"Right! True!" His body lurches from the bed as he swings his arms wildly around the room. "Wake up, 12. We're in Panem. Nothing is true, or virtuous, or honest. We are playing the game by THEIR rules. It doesn't have to be right…it just has to be believable."

"My district will never believe this. They know Peeta and they know me! They will never in a million years believe that I could ever love someone like you."

He ignores my insult. "I can sell anything…if not to your district, then at least to the Capitol and everyone else. That's all that matters now. I have to beat him. I won't let you stand in my way."

I stare at him as he stares at me for the next several seconds, both of us fuming. Waiting for someone to break down. Waiting for him to give in. Finally, I shake my head. I'm exhausted. I don't want to pretend anymore.

"So what's your brilliant plan then, 12? Come clean to dear old district 12. You barely knew your fake boyfriend, but pretended to love him to get sponsors. You kissed me, basically forced yourself on me, made a deal with me just to save your sorry skin. Really, I want to hear this. Tell me because I'm just dying to understand."

His voice seems to rise an octave with every word, building and building against the pounding in my head. Finally, I place my hands over my ears. "No…I… I don't know! Ok Cato, I don't know! Is that what you want to hear? I'm just sick of it all."

Unexpectedly, I feel his hand fall on the top of my shoulder. His thumb rubs in slow circles as we sit in silence now. Even his voice, when he does speak, is much softer, noticeably kinder.

"I know.. We just have to get through tomorrow. One step at a time. That's all I'm asking."

Slowly my head leaves my hands and returns to normal height. "Fine, Cato," I sigh. "I'll try my best."

I feel him nod, even though my eyes are closed. His hand snakes its way into my lap and around my own, giving it a soft squeeze. "Great. Now on to part 2."

My eyes fly open. "Part 2?"

"Yes. Now that we are straight on the game plan, we need to practice it."

I try to pull my hand from his. "Really, I'm fine. I got it."

"I don't think that you do." He pauses. "I need you to be comfortable around me."

"I am comfortable around you." I roll my eyes, gesturing to our currently joined hands. Despite my words and bravado gestures, we both know I'm lying. Even the sight of Cato makes me sweat.

He shakes his head, smiling. "I need you to be really comfortable." He pushes me with his free hand, pitching me back so I'm lying flat against the bed. He shifts sideways so that his body looms half over top of me. "I need you to trust me. Or at least be able to give the illusion of trust."

"Fine. What do I do?"

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"You heard me. Close…your…eyes."

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. One at a time I pop them close. My little leap of faith. I hope I don't look as ridiculous as I feel. Please don't kill me.

"Relax." The coolness of his uneven breath wisps across my skin as he laughs at my reluctance. "Okay, now deep breath. Just focus on relaxing."

I do what he asks, focusing on each breath, trying to forget he's staring down at me right now. In, out. One, two. Deep breaths. This isn't so hard. A rough finger pad drags against my neck. I snap my eyes open as it moves down toward my chest. Why is he tracing my skin? No, no.

"Eyes shut," he commands. I give him a warning glance but obey. "Good girl."

Slowly he adds two, three fingers into the mix, moving across my collarbones until he's lightly massaging the tips of my shoulders. It feels strange—so light it's almost ticklish. The bed shifts under his weight as his body moves closer to mine. His breath glides against my neck. Gradually, it moves up and over my chin, until, finally, I can feel it on my lips.

"Don't move," he whispers. He's right above me now, even closer than I expected. "Another deep breath."

I inhale as commanded. On the exhale his lips find mine. Immediately, I push him away.

"What the fuck are you doing, Cato?"

He sighs. "I told you, Katniss. Practicing."

"Trying to seduce me is more like it."

"Please, don't flatter yourself." He pulls back a few inches. "We're eventually going to have to kiss on camera to make it believable. You're so awkward it will look forced. You have to learn to be natural."

"I'm not awkward."

"Alright. Prove it to me then," Cato challenges. "Lie back down and show me you can do this. Convincingly."

"Fine." Our teeth clink painfully as I yank his head to mine much too quickly, but I soon find a rhythm. His warm lips slide softly against mine, sucking and pressing like that of a skilled expert. But this time it's slow, relaxed even—a complete reversal from his almost violent antics in the arena. It feels odd, threatening almost, this gentleness. I need to speed things up. I want to prove him wrong.

Squirming underneath him, I attempt to position his shoulders and back into a more intimate position. But his rock solid biceps refuse to budge, instead keeping his body a good six inches above mine at all times. Bucking my hips up to his, I kiss him faster and faster.

"Slow, Katniss," Cato murmurs between kisses, noticeably pulling farther from my body.

I shake my head and twist my fingers through his silky hair, practically locking his mouth to mine. "I want more." It's pathetic, but actually true. Our intimacy has brought back a barrage of lust. I've forgotten how wonderful it is kissing Cato. I want him now.

"You can't handle more."

Before he can pull away again, I nip his lower lip, sucking it slowly into my mouth. In an instant his defenses are destroyed. Impulsive Cato is back.

The heaviness of his broad frame is almost overwhelming as he drops his body on me all at once. His huge hands wind up through my hair, pulling my head this way and that in preparation for his kisses. Fingers move down to find my wrists, pinning them to the bed by my ears. Then his tongue is sliding into my mouth. And god, I never want him to stop. The tender sucking and rough biting blend together in the most terrible, wonderful harmony. I can't breathe. I won't breathe. It feels too wonderful. He has my permission to suffocate me.

He releases my arms, kissing his way down my body in a way that's almost sinful. Embarrassment heats my cheeks, clouding my lust-induced fog. My first reaction is to pull away to protect myself.

"No, keep your hands where I put them," Cato orders, eyes darkening. But it makes me feel vulnerable, I say internally. It's as if he reads my mind. "I want you to feel that way."

He's right…it feels too good to stop. Inch by inch he pushes my tank top higher, satisfied that I'm obeying. His warm, broad palms heat the sensitive skin on my stomach. The kisses that follow only coil my stomach to knots. I let my eyes flutter close and my head fall back against the mattress. I surrender to him. Seconds later he has my tank top off, slinging it into some forgotten corner. His fingers slide even more slowly up and under my back, finding the clasp of my bra. I make no move to stop him. But suddenly he takes his hands off me, pulling back and sitting on his heels, depriving me of his wonderful heat.

"Hey…what…?" I sit up, confused.

Amusement has replaced the desire in his eyes. "You were just going to let me undress you then?"

"No…yes…you said it was practice!"

He laughs, rolling off the bed, tossing me my tank top. "This is good—exactly what I wanted."

"What is?"

"The look in your eyes—relaxed, content. Like you've just been thoroughly fucked."

"Why do you always have to be such an ass, Cato!" Leave it to him to ruin a perfectly enjoyable moment with his vulgar mouth.

"Relax like you did today and the interview will go just fine. Now rest up." He gives me his trademark smirk. "You're going to need it."

He disappears through my bedroom door as quickly as he came, leaving my head in shambles, angry at myself for submitting to his tricks, and feeling utterly and completely dissatisfied.

That man should come with a manual.

Turning off my light, I yield to the call of my bed and shot nerves. I'm going to need all the sleep I can get.